


Storm Bringer

by stone_cold



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Buddhism ... kinda, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation ... oh Will can't you leave it alone for 2 seconds?, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Swearing ... you know me so whats new?, mention of m/m sex, nowhere NEAR as much pron as usual sorry!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stone_cold/pseuds/stone_cold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will jump, then ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Bringer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Twitter friends ... you are all so amazing and I'm blessed xx](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Twitter+friends+...+you+are+all+so+amazing+and+I%27m+blessed+xx).



> 1\. This fic ... arrgghh! I wrote most of it, panicked, deleted it, panicked again, found the first 2 chapters of it on my usb pen stick and then rewrote from memory and added the remainder, so an all-nighter and all-day-er later to keep in deadline ... yeah ... unbeta'd, mistakes, yadda yadda yadda. Hey, I'm menopausal - don't judge me.  
> 2\. Dievui nusispjauti tai - Goddamn it  
> 3\. SORRY!!. I flailed and posted this as one chapter and I can't figure out how to separate it now its posted!!  
>  I'll remedy this next time I write a long-ass fic.
> 
> ALSO ... whilst this is fine as a standalone, I left myself with a lot of wriggle-room in case I ~~am stupid enough to~~ write a sequel. ETA: ... and it appears I am that stupid. Sequel ongoing ;)
> 
> I can't express fully how grateful I am to my lovely #Fannibal Twitter friends who carried me through this, kicking and screaming, and never let me believe for one moment that I could fail. Of course I CAN - but that's not the point ;) Best.Fandom.Ever.

I

When the time came it felt like they'd already been falling forever, plummeting towards some uncertain outcome in a vacuum of bloodlust and betrayal and adrenalin. That they would fall at all had never been in question. There was simply no other choice. Circumstance and hasty planning had necessitated it, Hannibal had instigated it and Will ... well, Will had toyed with the idea of an honourable end, finishing what he'd originally started by killing Hannibal at the expense of himself, but somewhere along that righteous path he'd had an epiphany. The simple truth was that if Will couldn't live with Hannibal he'd just as soon die with him. There was no fucking honour in that, but the truth would not be denied.

Those last few moments teetering on the brink of everything were the most agonising and beautiful of Will's life. Physically he felt no pain, his body was on fire with adrenaline and the exhilaration of the kill he and Hannibal had just shared. It was Will's baptism in blood, because this was their first communal hunt and it was so good ... so very good. It wasn't vengeance, it wasn't even necessarily righteous, it was the simplicity of blood, the slicing of flesh with teeth and steel and the hot sanguine splash on skin, all the sweeter because Hannibal was with him.

The Great Red Dragon lay dead, torn apart by Il Mostro and his Wolf - a much more glorious death than he deserved. When the slaying was done, Will came back to himself on his knees near the cliff edge, his eyes searching in the darkness for Hannibal. He stood a little way off, chest heaving, fists clenching and unclenching, detaching himself from the moment. Hannibal looked up and stared at the younger man silently, then made his way towards him.

Will stretched out his hand so that the older man could help him up. His legs faltered, shaking like a young girl's on her first date and he gripped Hannibal's arms tightly to steady himself. Hannibal's strong hands gripped the front of his bloodied, ruined shirt tightly, anchoring him. Will could feel tremors radiating from the older man and rippling along his skin, hear the fall and swell of their breath and gasps of exhaustion disturb the air around them. He raised his head to look at Hannibal and felt suddenly humbled by the depth of passion and longing he saw reflected in the older man's maroon eyes. Hannibal's hands desperately clutched at his shirt, his gaze seeming to plead with Will and his voice trembled on the cool night air.

'See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will ... for both of us.'

And ... Oh God ... Will's heart finally shattered in a thunderous wave of agonizing tenderness and incessant yearning that he knew would never end. Hannibal was here with him, soaked in the blood of their mind games, their sins of omission, their betrayals and Will saw him ... really saw him, and his entire being ached with feeling for this man, the monster that was both his salvation and his undoing. For the first time in his life Will Graham was truly, irrevocably in love and the very notion of it made his soul and his body sing with joy. He smiled up at Hannibal, adoration shining in his eyes.

'It's beautiful ...'

Hannibal nodded slowly. Will leant against him, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's neck tightly and resting his head on his chest. He sighed heavily, suddenly so weary. The older man pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck. Will's eyes fluttered shut and he breathed in Hannibal's scent, feeling the warmth of his firm body permeate his. Will felt cold now. He knew how this had to go. Knew his role ... had been resigned to his role, but now there was this insistent, ravenous love, there was peace, there was Hannibal finally in his arms and Will's throat tightened in grief because a few seconds was all they had. He longed to stand there forever entwined, just the two of them encapsulated in a impenetrable bubble just ... holding each other. The unfairness of it all was like a dagger to his guts. Again. 

As if reading his mind Hannibal caressed him desperately and uttered a small whimper and Will felt the feather touch of his lips on his throat. He opened his eyes.

Time to fly.

One swift movement and their feet left the ground and ... they really were flying. And it was beautiful.

Just before it all went black he heard ...

'Will ... I love ...'

How he wished he had time to say it back.

...............................................................................................

II

That was the problem with comfortable beds - you never wanted to leave its warm embrace. Will Graham snuggled a little further into the nest of soft blankets surrounding him and sighed. Another day had dawned and he felt better than he had the day before. Gone where the incessant migraines, the night-sweats and panic attacks. He reasoned that he should still be the coiled spring of a man that he'd always been, given that he and Hannibal were wanted fugitives, and to some extent he was. But they were together, they were safe for the time being and really ... wasn't that was all that mattered?

Will remembered nothing after the initial jump from the cliff's edge. He'd awoken one afternoon, tucked up in a bed God knows where with no idea how he'd arrived or what had befallen them. Panic had set in initially and he'd struggled against his blankets to get out of bed, Hannibal's name running like a mantra though his brain and blocking out all other coherent thought. His feet had barely touched the ground when a firm hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him gently back onto the bed.

'Steady, Will. I've got you. Everything is ok, you're safe.'

Wilting back into bed, Will squinted and looked up.

'Hannibal ...'

It shocked him how ill-used his voice sounded, croaky and dry like an old scratched recording. He swallowed and heard an audible click.

'You need to drink something. You've been asleep for a long time and you need rehydrated. But sip slowly ... we don't want you being sick.'

Will stared as Hannibal retrieved a small plastic cup from a side table, complete with red drinking straw, and guided it to his lips. The water was cool and fresh and the urge to gulp it down in great gouts was nearly irresistible. He hummed in delight at the sensation on his tongue and the smooth, soothing passage of the liquid slithering down his throat. He could feel every part of his body reaching and begging for more ... more ...

'Ah-ah. That's enough for now. Let that settle, then you can have some more.'

Hannibal removed the cup, refilled it and sat it on the table again. Will couldn't take his eyes off him. Gone was the sharp suit and waistcoat, the short and perfectly coiffed hair ... the man before him wore a simple pair of black slacks, a loose white shirt and sported stubble on his chin. And his hair, tendrils of pale blonde, interspersed with strands of silvery-grey was tucked neatly behind his ears and nearly reached his shoulders. He had obviously been reading when he heard Will awaken as he wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. He looked ... incredible. Will blushed and looked down towards the floor and then cleared his throat.

'Hannibal ...'

'Will. I know you have lots of questions but you still need rest, you aren't completely recovered ...'

'Hannibal. Your feet. You're not wearing shoes. Or socks. You have bare feet.'

Hannibal smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

'No, I am not wearing shoes. Or socks. It's much too hot to worry about footwear indoors. The marble tile floors are very cooling on the feet, its most pleasant.'

Will blinked slowly, his brow furrowed and lips curling in thought.

'And where would 'here' be, exactly? And how long have I been asleep, you look like ... like ...'

He gestured with his arm, his fingers tracing a path from Hannibal's head to his feet.

Hannibal tilted his head.

'Like what, Will?'

Jesus, Hannibal was beautiful, nearly ethereal. More tanned than Will had ever seen him, his silvery-blond hair tickling the nape of his neck and making Will's tongue *itch* with the need to cover it in reverent, biting kisses. Most of Will wanted to prostrate himself before Hannibal and kiss his way from those bare feet to his sensual lips. The rest of Will wanted to declare that Hannibal was a god and Will his adoring supplicant, but he was Will Graham after all - he didn't 'do' adoration, at least not vocally. Instead, despite the flush on his cheeks, he cleared his throat and gave a dry little laugh.

'Like THIS. Like some new-age, middle-aged, sugar-daddy hippy type. Where the hell are we, Hannibal?'

Hannibal just smiled.

Will yawned broadly, eyelids fluttering like butterflies. Sleep wasn't done with him just yet. He sighed and snuggled further under the blankets before mumbling.

'Hannibal? Are we still Will and Hannibal?'

Hannibal snorted softly, then leant over and ruffled the younger man's hair.

'Yes, we are still Will and Hannibal. Rest now, questions later. Just ... close your eyes. Relax. Sleep. We'll talk later.'

Will wanted very much to protest, but his eyelids felt like lead weights and once closed were impossible to open again.

He drifted and slept.

...............................................................................................

III

So began their new life, a languid cycle of Will sleeping, eating and resting. As time passed he found himself growing stronger, needing less sleep and finding that, contrary to what he'd always believed, he had an enormous appetite. Granted, Hannibal made the most exquisite meals, but even at that Will was accustomed to being a frugal eater who survived on black coffee and nervous energy. This change was disconcerting but highly enjoyable and he couldn't even find it in himself to worry about weight gain.

With the warm, balmy weather of their new location and the lack of stress, Will found himself very much enjoying being alive. After all, how ungrateful would it be to find one's self bored after having been miraculously plucked from Mother Ocean's merciless embrace and transported to what felt like another world - a world with no Jack Crawford, no FBI, no death and decay and endless nightmares?

But for all this, things didn't feel right. Yes, he was more relaxed than he'd ever been - his mind was strangely at peace, now a limpid pool rather than swirling, heaving depths, but something preyed beneath the surface. He kept seeing something, fleeting and unknown ... flesh and red ... from out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look it was gone. It put him on edge and he now constantly felt the need to look over his shoulder.

A few nights before, Will been washing before bed, scooping handfuls of cool water to rinse his face and there it was, a quick glimpse in the mirror above the sink ... a blur that may have been a face ... wisps of what may have been silky hair as someone skipped by.

(... flesh and red ...)

And a giggle. Child-like. Shrill enough to tickle the shell of his ear.

Gasping in shock Will straightened over the sink, cascades of water spilling from his hands and dripping from his face. Gooseflesh covered his entire body and he felt riveted to the spot, unable ... no, *afraid* to turn around. He could feel his testicles tighten as if they wanted to disappear back into his body and a hot and cold sweat scorched its way across his back and shoulders. After what felt like forever, he caught his breath and turned.

Nothing.

Voice no better than a croak, he whispered loudly.

'Hannibal?'

His answer was a lazy snore from the older man's bedroom across the hall. Will scrambled for a towel and went through the villa slowly as he dried himself, searching for signs of an intrusion, but other than Hannibal, and Will's constant companion Paranoia, he was alone. Body still shivering, he sighed, cleaned up and went to bed. Sleep was a long time coming.

The memory of that night made him shiver anew and stirred a sick feeling of dread in his stomach and the notion that he was in waiting. But for what, he had no idea.

'Foreboding.'

Will's own voice shocked him, breaking the blissful silence when he spoke aloud. He frowned, opening his eyes. He had been on the patio enjoying the morning sunshine, his first coffee of the day and the fragrance of the many tropical flowers surrounding the villa. Foreboding ... where the hell had *that* came from? More than just a little reluctantly, he remarked upon it all to Hannibal over breakfast.

'I don't understand what's happened to me. I mean ... I know I had a bad fall from the cliff, but could that have done something? Could it have changed me in someway? I've never felt like this before, Hannibal.'

Hannibal pondered the question as he cut himself small cubes of fresh peach with unnecessary, but nevertheless surgical precision. 

'You were asleep for a long time, Will. Your body was starved of rest and stress-overloaded long before the fall and for a considerable length of time - its only natural that a period of recuperation and complete tranquillity would aid your bodies natural defences, help it repair itself.'

Will shook his head.

'No ... Its not as simple as that. My body feels ... fluid, loose, like I haven't felt since I was in my early twenties and my mind ... my mind is quiet. Its at peace, Hannibal. My mind has never been at peace. But there's something niggling at me, something like ... dread. Maybe subconsciously I've carried it over from the fall, some feeling of being in danger. Or maybe its because we're on the run, maybe I'm just being paranoid?'

The younger man could feel his stomach tighten, foreboding once again drenching him. He rubbed at his stubble-covered chin then pushed his unruly curls back from his forehead impatiently with both hands leaving, to Hannibal's absolute chagrin, a trail of toast crumbs in his hair. It took every fibre of Hannibal's self-control to not reach across and brush them from the younger man's hair. But he could see that Will was troubled, and anyway ... he might earn (at the very least) a hard slap to his hand for being so forward, so he sat back, listening intently to what Will had to say.

'That's another thing I wanted to mention. I'm having trouble remembering where we are and how we got here even though you've already told me several times - it just seems to slip from my mind. That in itself is ... troubling, right? Coupled with these other things, is there any chance my encephalitis could be active again? I keep seeing these flashes, just over my shoulder, but when I turn there's nothing ...'

Hannibal straightened on his stool at the breakfast bar and slowly sat down the cube of peach he was nibbling on, brow wrinkled in concern.

'Are you telling me that you are having hallucinations again, Will? You don't appear to be suffering from a fever. How about headaches? When was the last time you had a headache?'

'Not since we've gotten here. And no, there's no fever, its just I keep having these thoughts and seeing things ...'

'What kind of things? Have you been seeing Garret Jacob Hobbs again, Will?'

'NO! No ... not Hobbs. Its like ... in my peripheral vision. Always just over my shoulder, as if there's someone ... watching me or shadowing me.'

(... flesh and red ...)

'Not Hobbs?'

'Not Hobbs. Nothing as real. Hobbs was real to me. This is like ... shadows ... fragments ...'

Hannibal chuckled.

'Like a ghost, perhaps?'

'It's not fucking funny, Hannibal. Its unnerving to say the least. Between losing some memories and not being able to keep my mind in the present ... Why the hell can I not remember where we are? You keep telling me that it doesn't matter, but it does! Is there something wrong with me - something that you aren't telling me?'

The older man smiled gently and shook his head.

'I understand your frustration. Your mind is still undergoing repair, so of course you are going to be absent-minded, but only for awhile. We jumped from the cliff and we were hurt, badly. Chiyoh was waiting in a boat and picked us up, but you were unconscious with a nasty head wound. I tended to you on the boat, kept you supplied in liquid and nutrients via IV.

After for a few weeks we reached our destination. We're on the island of Principe, situated off the coast of Africa. This house was an old sugar plantation just outside the capital of Sao Tome. Its a private tourist rental for those wishing ... solitude. It has the added bonus of being one of a number of countries that has no extradition treaty with the USA. Now ... do you feel better? Is there anything else concerning you? I assure you Will ... you are fine. And you will be even better soon.'

Will pondered as he chewed on his morning toast.

'I don't know, so much about this feels ... off. It doesn't seem real, its like a half-remembered dream, I ... I feel good, better than I have in years, but I don't feel ...'

The younger man threw down his toast crust and shrugged, clearly agitated. Hannibal sighed, grabbed his courage by the scruff of the neck and reached for Will's hand across the table. Hannibal was reasonably confident that Will's flustered state distracted him from hearing his gasp, elicited when Will took his hand in his.

'Will, you've only been awake again for a short time. You've been through a dreadful trauma, both in mind and body. I promise you, things will become clearer with the passing of days. Can you trust me, Will? Just for a little while longer.'

Will's eyes shone with unshed tears, but he nodded vigorously.

'Ok. I can ... I do. I just feel so ... unmoored. I mean, I like it here but something's niggling at me. It's like ... like there's a storm coming. I can nearly taste the ozone in the air and the hair on the back of my neck constantly prickles. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, huh?'

The older man watched him thoughtfully.

'Maybe. Now, finish your breakfast. Today we'll go for a short walk - it'll give you a chance to get your bearings and help those lazy muscles recover.'

...............................................................................................

IV

That night Will found himself unable to fall asleep. There were so many thoughts and feelings rushing though his head, each one clamouring for attention like a naughty infant. He shuffled in the bed trying to get more comfortable, punching at his pillows to fluff them up, fiddling with the bed cover. He flopped down with a heavy sigh and tried to close his eyes again.

Today had been good - Hannibal had taken him on a short walk around the periphery of their villa. It wasn't overly sumptuous, surprisingly - a medium sized, two-bedroom with a small pool that Will was very grateful for, because although close to the beach he had no desire to get back into the ocean. The rooms were a good size, airy and light, decorated in muted pastels and understated furniture, very unlike anything Hannibal had in his home or office back in Baltimore. It was very relaxing. The outside was equally so, surrounded by exotic flowers and greenery, the only sounds those of the brightly coloured birds that lived in the nearby trees and foliage.

During their walk he'd had another of his 'flashes' - again, a glimmer, a blur out of the side of his eye which sent shivers to every nerve ending in his body and damned near loosened his bowels. He'd sworn he heard a whispered laugh and a tiny fragment of a child's giggle waft on the soft breeze.

(... flesh and red ...)

He'd glanced at Hannibal quickly looking for some kind of response, but it appeared he'd heard and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Inwardly screaming, Will had bitten his lip until he felt blood, concentrating on the salty, metallic tang on his tongue, willing his mind and emotions to just chill the fuck down ... to just ... shove it all out of the way. Hannibal had said he was fine, after all. This was just some post-trauma head-fuckery and he needed to get over it.

Sweeping the day's memories to one side Will stretched languidly, enjoying the pleasant stretch in the ligaments of his back and legs and the feel of cool cotton on his skin. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. Will's thoughts inevitably took him back to that fateful night on the cliff's edge, a night he remembered with perfect clarity. Hannibal had once told him that blood looked quite black in the moonlight. He had been right. Will swallowed hard and a thrill ran though his belly as he recalled Hannibal standing proud and unbeaten, eyes glittering like a demon's and his face and mouth veiled in the blood of their mutual enemy. That wasn't the moment that he'd realised he wanted Hannibal, that had been months before. But it was the moment he had admitted it to himself.

He still remembered how Hannibal had felt in his arms, the older man's hands desperately clutching at the front of his shirt, face pressed tightly into the curve of his neck. He had known Hannibal could feel his erection just as Will could feel his and his hips twitched with the memory of how good it had felt, how much he'd wanted to rut and grind against him until they both found release.

A hot flush began in his crotch and suffused his body and he hummed in enjoyment, his hand sliding beneath his thin boxers to grip his cock, already so very hard. He stoked himself firmly, his breath coming in little puffs and gasps, hips moving lazily as he fell into a blissful rhythm. His mouth hung open slightly, the tip of his tongue snaking out to lick his dry lips and he could almost *smell* Hannibal, that earthy, musky scent that clung lovingly to his body and had so complimented the sweet, metallic tang of the Dragon's blood.

Will reached up with his free hand and slid two shaking fingers into his mouth soaking them saliva, sucking them thoroughly and moaning as he imagined being on his knees before Hannibal, sucking him off. Hannibal's moans of encouragement were echoing in his mind and ... fuck ... it was too much ... he removed his fingers and reached down, saliva dripping onto his inner thigh and pushed his fingers roughly inside himself, hips jacking violently as he forced them as far as he could, reaching for ... oh fuck ... there it was ... fuck ... Haaaanibal ... and he was coming so hard, body undulating beneath eager hands and fingers, Hannibal's name dropping from his tongue like a prayer, his entire body arching from the bed as the hot splatters of his release coated his hand and belly and white light and heat flooded his brain.

Body quivering with aftershocks, Will collapsed back onto the bed, eyes closed, breath screaming and his blood pounding in his ears. He didn't notice the tall shadow at the bedroom door linger until he fell asleep, semen and sweat now quickly drying on his body. The shadow then approached the bed, gently swept sweaty locks of hair from the younger man's forehead and pulled the covers up and around him as he drifted in a deep slumber.

It was only a short time later that Hannibal was shaken from his own slumber by Will howling in anguish and calling his name over and over. Throwing the covers to the floor in uncharacteristic disregard he hurried to the young man's room.

'HANNIBAL ... god, help me ... they're broken ... flesh and red everywhere ... please ... he's killing them ... PLEASE! HANNIBAL ... Hannibal ...'

There he found Will hunkered in his bed, back pressed tightly against the headboard. Blood trickled from his mouth and his bitten lips and his hands frantically pulling at his own hair. His pallid face was such a mask of abject horror and misery that Hannibal caught his breath. Then wearily he approached the bed and began his now nightly task of comforting Will. He got into the bed and gathered the younger man in his arms, stroking his sweat-sodden hair from his face and crooning softly into his ear, calming him enough so that he eventually fell back into a deep sleep.

Come morning, he knew that Will would have no memory of what had occurred and for that the older man was grateful. Whatever it was that Will saw in his nocturnal terrors it was probably best forgotten, but for the life of him, Hannibal couldn't understand what was worse than the things Will Graham had already heard and seen in his past that now haunted his dreams and made him tear at his own hair and face and bite his inner cheeks until they bled. For all Will's protestations that his mind was now at peace, the trauma and night terrors that he unknowingly suffered on a regular basis spoke differently.

...............................................................................................

V

A part of Will had worried that it would never happen. He knew how he felt about Hannibal and how Hannibal felt about him, how could he not? It was etched on every glance, every small touch given, every lovely thing that the man did for him, just to make him happy. And he was happy, but had been increasingly more fretful about how he would indicate to this beautiful man just how 'happy' he wanted them to be together, how much he craved his touch and the soft caress of their lips and tongues finally meeting. In the end, all it took was one of his 'flashes' and a hot cup of coffee.

It was late evening - not generally the accepted time for coffee drinking, but Will didn't care much for either the general or the accepted, choosing instead to indulge himself according to his whims. He noted a pointed glance and a grimace from his companion when he rose to his feet and approached the coffee pot.

'Don't go there, Hannibal. Don't spoil my coffee with your nagging. You wouldn't like me when I'm being nagged.'

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully.

'Does being nagged make you as intolerably twitchy and tetchy as when you drink coffee at this infernal hour? If so, you have my silence, but not my assent. I cannot bring myself to approve of something I feel is derogatory to your wellbeing. But don't mind me. Carry on, Will. I will just sit here and judge you quietly.'

Try as he might, Will couldn't stuff the amused giggle that left his lips back into his treacherous mouth, so he let it be and it morphed into a belly laugh which saw him crouching over his knees, hands gripping the kitchen counter as guffaws shook his body. On the peripheral he could hear an answering giggle and it took a second or two for him to realise that it couldn't possibly have originated from Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal didn't giggle, for one thing. He wasn't a child, for another.

Realisation hit his body like high voltage and Will's body jerked and straightened in shock. As he straightened he caught a glimpse in the reflection of their coffee pot - his pale face, electric blue eyes wide and alarmed, mouth an 'oh' of surprise ... and something else ... just over his shoulder ... a face, framed in wispy-blonde hair, a swift blur of flesh and red ... so much red ...

A reflexive jolt of his arms propelled the coffee pot onto its side spewing steam and liquid java and sent his cup to the floor with a smash, but not before delivering its scalding payload over the back of his hand. Will cried out in pain and the world started to grow dark and fuzzy. He could vaguely hear and see Hannibal fuss around him, but his legs gave way and he slid unceremoniously to the floor before descending into a dead faint.

When he finally came to, his head was cushioned on Hannibal's lap. There was a cool cloth on his forehead and the man in question was gently rinsing the burn on his hand in blessedly cool water. Will blinked slowly, his mind still mired in a semi-daze.

'Can you hear me, Will? Are you back with me now?'

Hannibal's worried face peered down at his. He looked as pale and washed out as Will felt. Will studied him for a few seconds, then ignoring the pain in his hand and the mugginess that still surrounded his brain, he reached up and grabbed Hannibal's hair and gently tugged his head downwards until their faces were flush and he was able to finally, albeit awkwardly, kiss him full on the lips.

He would have liked to have said that it was the look of wonderment swiftly followed by joy on Hannibal's face that was the undoing of him - instead it was as simple as the rush of pure lust that bombarded every molecule of his being when their lips met. 

The remainder of the night was spent in a wonderland of debauchery - undulating, sweating bodies writhing in exquisite pleasure and the realisation of fantasies Will wasn't aware that he'd even had. Youthful experimentation had left him with few boundaries as far as sex was concerned, but had left him ignorant of just how incredible those fantasies could be with the right person.

Maybe he should have been offended when Hannibal scooped him up into his arms like a new bride and carried him to bed - he wasn't.

Perhaps when Hannibal undressed him slowly, crooning to him in Lithuanian and planting kisses on every inch of his body, perhaps then he should have demanded Hannibal not be as gentle - he wasn't a fragile girl, after all. He didn't.

When, after what seemed like hours of being prepared and teased by Hannibal's fingers and oh so skilled tongue, Hannibal gently but firmly pushed inside him and ... oh FUCK ... hit that spot ... maybe then he should have insisted on being the one on top. Again, he didn't. He just mentally added it to the list of things he wanted to do to Hannibal, especially if those things had the older man writhe and moan beneath him, begging him not to stop, just like Will was doing now.

What did cause him pause for thought was how well they fit together, it was as if their bodies were made for each other. There were no awkward, sloppy kisses, they were perfect from the first, their lips sliding together like satin on silk, tongues synchronised and dancing lazily in each others mouths. It hadn't taken Hannibal long to discover what made Will hiss in pleasure and what made him moan loudly and beg shamelessly. Likewise, Will mapped the older man's body in his memory ... nibble *this* Hannibal swears in three different languages ... do *that* with his fingers and Hannibal arches off the bed, panting like a wanton whore. Will had never felt pleasure like this, never connected with anyone in the raw, visceral way he found himself connecting with Hannibal. It was reciprocal and it was perfect.

It truly was beautiful.

...............................................................................................

VI

Disappointment was tempered with joy when Will realised the next morning upon waking that Hannibal wasn't in bed beside him ... but if the delicious smells wafting through the villa were anything to go by, he was cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Damn, but he was famished. The young man stretched, smiling coyly when he felt the ache of muscles that hadn't had such a workout for a long time, not to mention certain other muscles that hadn't ached like this in twenty years or more. It was with reluctance that he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

Drying himself afterwards, he felt a reluctance to look in the mirror, frightened of what he might see lurking over his shoulder. He grimaced, running his fingers gently over the still-livid burn on the back of his hand from where the coffee had scalded him the night before. But he chided himself - there was nothing to see ... there was nothing to fear, his own reflection the only thing that would peer out at him. Steeling himself, he glanced up.

His breath escaped from him in a harsh gasp.

There was nothing other than his own reflection.

Will laughed then. How stupid was he being? There was nothing, he had nothing to fear, there wasn't anything in that mirror except him with his stubble and scraggly beard, a few livid love bites from the night before peppering his neck and his chest ... and oh ... even one on his belly ... unblemished other than the purple-red bruise that Hannibal had skilfully created with his teeth and tongue ...

Wait.

Will's eyes slowly travelled from his belly upwards towards his shoulder, certain to meet the scar that had graced it for years, the one he'd gotten when he'd been shot by that ...

There was a small, nearly discernible dip in the skin, but the scar itself was gone. He gulped. Hard.

Moving slowly now, feeling as if he were trudging through sand, Will prepared his face with lather then commenced shaving. His hand shook violently and it took all that he had in him not to slice his face in a dozen places. But shave he did. Methodically. Not clean-shaven, but just enough so that he could see the scar on his cheek, the scar that by rights shouldn't even be properly healed by now, the scar made by the Dragon, the scar that ...

It was gone, or as good as. Just a small, thin, pinkish line indicated to Will where a knife had pierced his cheekbone. 

The razor slipped from his boneless fingers, and as if in a daze, he wandered still partially clothed into the kitchen where Hannibal stood oblivious, serving up bacon and eggs. Task completed, he then sat down at the breakfast bar, filling their cups with steaming hot coffee. On hearing footsteps behind him, the older man turned around, and on seeing the look on Will's face, promptly sat down the Espresso percolator pot.

'Will ... what's wrong?'

Will blinked slowly, his face confused as if he had no idea where he was.

'I don't understand...'

The younger man was rubbing his cheek, almost absentmindedly, his eyes dazed and far away.

'How did I not notice this before? Not just this, my BELLY. How could I not notice my belly?'

Hannibal got to his feet slowly, not wanting to upset Will any more than he already appeared to be. He held out his hand slowly.

'Come and sit, Will. Talk to me. I'll make some calming camomile tea and we can ...'

Will's face contorted in indignation and confusion.

'Tea? What the fuck, Hannibal ... TEA? Did tea fix this? Is tea making my scars disappear? WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO ME?'

He ran at Hannibal then, taking him totally by surprise and yanked the two halves of the shirt apart, buttons flying though the air and falling to the floor in a silvery-white shower, bouncing on the cool tiles. Wrenching it to one side he searched Hannibal's chest and belly frantically, then reached out a shaking hand to explore the smooth, unblemished skin of his torso. Roughly, he turned Hannibal around and ripped the shirt from him revealing an equally smooth, unblemished back.

Hannibal heard him gasp and felt the younger man's fingers tentatively stroke from his shoulder-blades to the swell of his hip. The Verger brand was gone. All Hannibal's scars were gone. When Will finally sobbed, Hannibal thought his own heart would crack in two. They stood there for a moment motionless before Hannibal slowly turned and placed his hands gently on Will's quivering shoulders. Will turned his face upwards, tears trickling slowly down this cheeks, his eyes full of fear and questions. He shook his head, random jerking little motions that showed Hannibal how hard he was trying to hold himself together, to not just *shatter*.

'How? Tell me how, Hannibal. Tell me you had some fucking hotshot plastic surgeon fly in from fucking Dubai or somewhere, that you paid him thousands to fix us ... tell me something I can hold on to, because I'm falling apart here.'

And Hannibal felt ashamed, not because he had lied because after all they had an agreement, there were to be no more lies and he had not lied, but it was the same old story, sins of omission ... so many omissions, and it broke him a little inside to see Will so confused, so lost ... and he needed to fix him, but he didn't know how to do that without breaking him first. He sighed so deeply that for a split second it seemed he'd never exhale again.

'We didn't make it, Will.'

Stormy-blue eyes crinkled and Will stuttered.

'What? I don't ... What?'

Hannibal could hardly bear to meet Will's gaze but he did it because he had to and the trust and love that he saw there ... Oh why did this have to be so difficult, why did it have to hurt like this? He cupped his boy's face in his hands, trying to convey with his eyes what was in his heart, the love that was deep and true and eternal, trying to hold it together because Will *needed* him, but he was so very afraid himself ...

'I didn't make it, Will. We didn't make it, we ... we were lost to the sea.'

'What are you saying?'

Hannibal sighed and ran a hand over his face.

'I miscalculated. I had no idea that this would be so hard. I've tried to protect you, but I fear that I've only made things worse. I wasn't even sure we'd be here together, I thought when you ... when you passed that you might not even come here, I wasn't sure if you ... desired me.'

The silence in the room was deafening. Hannibal stole a glance at Will. His face was still and hard like stone and his eyes ... oh, how his predator eyes glittered.

'Passed.'

'Will, I ...'

'You said 'passed'. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN, PASSED?'

The younger man stared deeply into Hannibal's eyes, then flinched, hard. Damn his empathy. His face, a short while ago glowing with happiness now seemed to deflate, collapse in on itself. Hannibal felt a cold wind blow over his soul, chilling him to the bone.

'Are you saying I'm ... dead. Is that what you're saying Hannibal, that I'm DEAD?'

The older man grimaced.

'We both are, Will. I'm so sorry. We didn't make it. We died.'

Hannibal watched open-mouthed as Will's legs gave way and he spilled onto the floor, landing on his backside. Head held in hands, he was laughing, tears running down his sharp cheekbones in a stream, trickling from his chin to leave dark splatters on his trousers. The older man couldn't move, rooted to the spot by the grief, pain and fear that he could feel radiating from his lover.

Suddenly the room fell silent again, except for Will's gentle sniffing. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and looked up, determinedly.

'Alright. All this metaphysical bullshit is your department, Hannibal. Explain this crap to me in words I can fucking understand or I swear to GOD I'll burn this fucking place to the ground and us in it.'

Hannibal tentatively moved towards Will and sat down beside him.

'There is no God, Will.'

'HANNIBAL!!'

'Please Will ... let me explain. There is no 'God', not in the way that you understand in the Christian theology. Think of this more akin to Buddhism. We at present are in Limbo. Buddhists believe that life is both endless and subject to impermanence, suffering and uncertainty. These states are called the tilakhana, or the three signs of existence. Existence is endless because individuals are reincarnated over and over again, experiencing suffering throughout many lives.'

Will groaned aloud.

'Hannibal, for Christ's sake ...'

'Listen to me, mylimasis. You must listen, this is of vital importance. Life is a never-ending circle of birth and death that we are eternally bound to and what keeps us bound is desire ... desire in the sense of wanting or craving something in the 'real' world. As long as we desire we cannot move on to true death. True death, Will, is nothingness. Forever and always.

There is a higher power, more than one. When I first came here, it was because my desire tied me to the real world and wouldn't set me free. Now, I have to go back to the world, not to atone, not to be a 'better person', but because the desire I have has anchored me and I cannot move on until that desire is gone.

A woman awaited me on my arrival. She appeared to me as Kwan Yin, the Buddhist goddess of compassion, a shape that she knew would be familiar to a philosopher such as myself and she explained everything to me.'

If it was possible Will wilted even more, slumping over his knees and resting his hands on Hannibal's thighs.

'Oh god Hannibal ... oh god ... oh good, fucking god. What are you talking about?'

Hannibal's voice quivered in a way that Will had never thought possible.

'I died, Will. As soon as we hit the water I lost my grip on you and the riptide caught me. As luck would have it, it steered you closer to the shore and eventually deposited you on the beach. But my desire ... my passion for you brought me here - destined to await your return to me so that we could move on or stay in loneliness until my desire for you was gone and I was sucked into nothingness.'

Will's face was a mask of confusion and dread and Hannibal could feel his body tremble alongside his.

'I don't understand. Why were you here for so long before me? You said I was asleep, that we were on a *boat*, that ...'

'I know what I said, Will. You needed quiet ... time to repair, to accept. I knew how difficult this would be for you ...'

'Repair? I'm not a fucking toy, Hannibal. Nor am I a child, so why are you treating me like one?'

'So you would have believed me? Accepted it all with a smile and an 'oh, well?' You live in the real world, Will ... there's rarely been room in your life for the fanciful or philosophical. What would you have had me do? I was grieving because the longer I stayed here alone, the stronger the chance that you wouldn't join me. And when I felt it ... when I felt your death it nearly destroyed me. If it were mine to give you, you would have life, even without me. I had already lost you in that life because I died, but I prayed to any deity listening that I would not lose you in this.'

Will gasped, tears welling in his eyes again.

'You said I was washed up on the beach.'

'You were. But there was a serious head injury and you lay there so long, my darling. So long and all alone ...'

The older man dropped his head into his hands and wept. Numbly, Will shuffled closer to him and gathered him in his arms.

'Fuck, Hannibal ... fuck. How long were you here without me?'  


'I'm not sure. Time moves differently here, slower. You appeared, you slept for a week, then ...'

'Jesus, this is so fucked up. What the hell are we going to do, Hannibal?'  


A woman's voice suddenly rang out stridently, seeming to echo around the villa.

'Oh, for the love of Double-Stuffed Oreos, stop your whining, boy!'

...............................................................................................

(NOTE: Ok, this is a long-ass chapter because I'm not accustomed to writing long-ass fics, ergo, I am crap at editing chapters. Sorry!

Also, a gazillion bazillion kudos if you spot my little homage to Ryan Reynolds)

VII

Both men flinched, startled by the unexpected voice invading their space. Will stared in disbelief at the woman who now stood in the centre of the room. She was tall and slim with dark skin and a shock of silver-grey hair, her age probably somewhere in her mid-50's. Will's first thought was that he had never seen a woman as charismatic or beautiful in his whole life - his second, that she scared the living shit out of him, such was the power of her presence. Hannibal remained impassive. The lady moved forward and sank to the floor, cross-legged, just in front of them. She nodded briefly at the older man before fixing Will with her gaze.

'Well, Mr William Graham. I finally make your acquaintance.'

The lady smiled revealing rows of sharp, cruel looking teeth and glanced at Hannibal.

'I can see now why you're so enamoured, he's quite the beauty, light side and dark.'

'Please Kwan. Be kind. He's not ready for you.'

The lady laughed harshly, slapping Will's shoulder with a slender hand that belied the strength beneath. He winced.

'As always you underestimate him, Hannibal. He's not a precious innocent, as much as he looks like one, he's a KILLER, aren't you boy? Natural born, a bit reluctant, but now he's shuffled off the old mortal coil there'll be no stopping him. He's chock full of darkness just bursting to escape and when it does ... oh, this beauty will make the World burn. And with you at his side? Man, that'll be something to see.'

Will bristled, hating her tone, her condescension and the arrogant way in which she treated Hannibal. His Hannibal. He stared at her coldly. Hannibal glanced cautiously at the younger man- he could feel Will's muscles tighten and the look in his eyes, regardless of the shitty situation they were currently in, sent a hot thrill through Hannibal's gut. Will tilted his head.

'Who the fuck are you?'

The lady's eyebrows rose in surprise and she shook back a few silver tresses that hung over her forehead and in her eyes.

'My name, at this point in time, is Kwan Yin.'

Will smiled, a sardonic twist of the lips that portrayed more disdain than pleasure.

'So ... you're the Buddhist goddess of compassion, huh? Damn, you might have Hannibal fooled but not me. You're just some supernatural, stone-cold bitch here to fuck us up, aren't you? Well, NEWSFLASH! You can take a sugar-frosted fuck off the end of my dick, you ... you other-worldly fuck!'

To Will's astonishment Kwan burst into laughter. Her face contorted in mirth and she shook her head.

'Man oh man ... they warned me about you, Will Graham! Aren't you just the fiery little thing, looking after your man. Well, NEWSFLASH ...'

Kwan reached across as fast as a cobra strike and grabbed Will by throat, shocking the breath right out of him. Her expression was one of amusement rather than anger, but her tone was cold.

'I AM a fucking goddess and you WILL show a little fucking respect! Capisce?'

Face suffused with blood and rapidly turning purple, Will nodded frantically, his useless scrabbling hands not dislodging Kwan's fingers even a little. The goddess released him, wiping her hand on Will's trousers and he collapsed back against Hannibal, gasping and rubbing his throat. In the back of Hannibal's mind a small part of him yearned to see his boy go to town and rip this woman apart. He tightened his grip on Will. For her part, Kwan glowered.

'Oooh hoo ... you're a sweaty, twitchy little thing, aren't you? Ok, now that I have your full fucking attention, Mr William Graham, you will now shut the hell up and listen to what I have to say as if your life ... oh, I'm sorry ... as if your fucking *soul* depended upon it. Are we crystal?'

Will nodded silently although his eyes glittered with malice. Hannibal pulled him closer still, trying to soothe him.

'Please Will ... let her have her say. Its not like we have much of a choice, this is her domain after all. Please Kwan ... excuse my Will, this is new to him and he means no disrespect.'

Kwan smiled benevolently.

'He's a little fire cracker, isn't he? Looks are so deceiving, don't you think, Hannibal? He has the visage of an angel, yet the teeth of a hell-hound. But what am I saying? You, the master of the people-suit, the shepherd with a penchant for the flesh of his sheep ... you saw it in him.'

Hannibal lifted his chin and stared Kwan right in the eye.

'I did. And I love him for it. Will has never been, nor will ever be, a sheep. Or a pig, for that matter. He is unique.'

Kwan's smile faded and she sighed heavily before staring forcibly at both men.

'That he is, Hannibal. And now, you must listen to me. Both of you. You are here because you are tied to the real world directly due to the love you have for each other, blah fucking blah ... that much is true. But that's not all.'

Kwan paused, searching in the roomy, silken red kimono she wore, retrieved a box of cigarettes and put one into her mouth. Patting her pockets, she could find no matches and she sighed heavily. Will smirked.

'Limbo is a no-smoking zone, asshole. Looks like you're shit out of luck. Anyway ... those things will kill you.'

Kwan grunted and put the unlit cigarette in her mouth. Will supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when it suddenly glowed orange at the end and the goddess drew in a lungful of smoke which she happily blew in their faces on its way back out. She smirked.

'Jesus, you know nothing, Will Graham. Anyway, as I was saying. There is a dark shadow on the real-world horizon, boys ... black as night and as relentless as love itself. He has an appetite for carnage the likes of which neither of you has ever even imagined and he must be stopped ... for reasons that I'm not allowed to go into right now.'

Will snorted.

'Well, isn't THAT fucking convenient? So ... this storm-bringer ...'

Will turned to his companion.

'Hey baby, you got your cell handy?'

He put his hand to his mouth and whispered hoarsely to Hannibal.

'I think we need to call Ghostbusters!'

Kwan tutted, blowing more smoke in their faces.

'Our seers have indicated that both of you have a role to play in the oncoming drama - not alone, but together ... fuck knows why. It was our 'good fortune' that you shared a bond of love and ended up here, because alone you are not enough to master this blackness. Together, you have a fighting chance. And by the way ... the irony of this shit isn't lost on me.'

There was a heavy sigh as Will tutted and shook his head.

'For fuck's sake, just wake me up NOW, because this dream is beyond clichéd, beyond fucking ridiculous. I just want to fuck and then go to sleep and forget about it. I mean ... what the hell is this, an episode of Supernatural?'

Kwan ran her slender fingers though her silver hair.

'Goddamn, I knew you'd be hard work, but shit ... you're something else, Graham. LISTEN TO ME! This is your fucking destiny. This is going to happen. There is nothing you can do except accept it. I mean ... goddamn, I'm a goddess and fuck knows, I've had to accept this shit. You are both going back. Tonight. You will not remember anything that has happened here, because hey ... I don't have any control over what happens next and I have a boss of my own to ass-kiss. You will go back and you will deal with what is coming. Get the fuck over it. Just ... man up and fulfil your fucking destiny, already.'

Will's eyes narrowed.

'I thought you Buddhists didn't believe in 'destiny'? I thought that nothing was fixed and everything was subject to change? I thought ...'

Kwan suddenly got to her feet, eyes blazing and exasperation flooding her beautiful features. She dropped the cigarette to the floor, squashed it with her foot and then gestured wildly at Will.

'How the hell does anyone EVER reason with you? I'm not a Buddhist, I'm the fucking representation of something Hannibal would recognise ... What the hell am I doing, this is ... is BULLSHIT! Goddamit, Hannibal ... you can take it from here, he's all yours and you're FUCKING WELCOME TO HIM!'

She strode to the centre of the room and fixed them with a baleful glare before straightening her hair and clothes.

'The Light will be here in a few moments - Hannibal, you know what to do. I am out of here.'

Will stared up at her, face the picture of innocence.

'Oh, no ... leaving so soon?'

Kwan sighed heavily, but something in the way she looked at Will made his heart freeze and the awful, familiar feeling of foreboding washed over him so strongly that it was like drowning, all over again.

'It's kids, Graham. Little kids. And there's one kid in particular that he wants and ... he can't be allowed to ... He hunts them, pleasures himself with them, hurts them in ways that ...'

She stopped them, eyes glistening with tears and her mouth making a moue of disgust.

'He eats them afterwards, doesn't he?'

Hannibal's voice shook, with anger or sadness Will couldn't quite tell - quite possibly both. Hannibal might be a monster but he would never hurt a child, especially after Mischa. Realisation suddenly flooded his body.

'The flashes I kept seeing ... flesh and red ...'

Beside him he heard and felt Hannibal's gasp.

'The nightmares. Kwan, Will has been having nightmares every night since he arrived, he screams about flesh and blood and things being broken ... being killed ... he never remembers in the morning.'

Will turned to him suddenly, his face a mask of indignation and shock.

'NOW? You're telling me this NOW? What the FUCK, Hannibal?'

He stopped short for a moment, then glanced fearfully from Hannibal to Kwan.

'They're visions, aren't they? Flesh and red ... the feelings of foreboding ...

'Foreboding, foretelling, call it what you will, its not just going to happen, Will ... it *is* happening, right now. You must go back. You must catch this man, Hannibal. All odds are against you both - you understand things have not changed? You are still wanted criminals and Jack Crawford will not stop until he has arrested or killed you both. But this child ... if he hurts this child, the consequences in the real world will be dire. More than this I cannot say, but you must save the child.'

She stared at the two stricken men on the floor, their faces awash with confusion and fear. When Will spoke again, his voice was quiet, respectful.

'Kwan ... I don't know that we can do this. We won't remember any of this, we'll be on the run from Jack and the FBI ... Where will we begin? How will we know this man, how will we find him without the help of my contacts in the Bureau?'

Kwan covered her face with her hands, shook her head and sighed.

'ALRIGHT, alright! My ass-on-the-line time ... the flashes you've been getting, they are visions. I did it. I put something there while your head was healing, so when you return you'll get flashes ... just enough for you to piece together, to give you clues ... its all ... its MORE than I'm allowed to do. Its the only way I can HELP you. As you said, you won't remember any of this when you return, only vague feelings, maybe the odd nightmare ...'

Will snorted.

'Oh great. More fucking nightmares. That's just peachy.'

Kwan halted then, head canted to one side as if listening.

'It seems I've said too much and I must go. Shit, now you've gone and gotten me in trouble! Humph! Well boys, I'd like to say that its been a pleasure, but ... you know ....'

With a final narrowing of the eyes, she flipped Will the middle finger ... and she was gone.

Hannibal sighed.

...............................................................................................

VIII

After a short time, both men got to their feet. Will studied his hands for a moment before looking sheepishly at his companion.

'So ... that was ... I want to say 'fun', but ... what now, Hannibal? God, this is just insane. Where will we go?'

Hannibal shrugged.

'Back, I suppose. Kwan was quite specific on that point. The Light will bring us to our destination, all we have to do is walk into it willingly when it appears. We won't remember any of this but we must find a way to catch this man, regardless. I have no doubt his and our paths will eventually cross and that aid will find its way to us through Kwan's visions. Beyond that, all I know for certain is we're not done yet - not with us, not with Uncle Jack, not with the darkness that is coming our way. Our story demands resolution, Will - good or bad.'

Will snorted and shook his head.

'An ending? Our Swan Song? I don't think so, Hannibal. I can't ever imagine a time that I won't desire you - we will never really end.'

The younger man gently cupped Hannibal's cheek, stroking the soft stubble with his thumb. He smiled roguishly.

'I'm never letting you go, Cher. Not even Death will keep me from you, so I guess we'll just call this a vicious circle, shall we?'

Hannibal cupped his face in return, his eyes sparkling with tears.

'Nor I you, my darling. Until Time itself gives up and lets us be.'

A soft, fluctuating glow compelled them both to glance to the centre of the room. The Light was here. The older man reached out and took Will's free hand in his firmly. Will squeezed it, enjoying the weight of it within his.

'Don't let go, Hanni. Don't ever let go.'

'Never. Time to fly, Will.'

Will smiled, kissed Hannibal's hand and they stepped into the Light.

...............................................................................................

The man on the beach squinted his eyes tightly against the early morning sun. Everything was so bright and the sound of the waves crashing against the nearby cliffs thundered in his ears, but the smell and feel of ozone in the air told him there was a storm coming. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the hot sting of salt and looked around. He lay just above the tide line, a lost, limp starfish splayed out on the sand and stones. Looking out to sea he could see a small boat making its way doggedly towards the shoreline. Dammit, but everything hurt, especially his right hand and when he looked down he noticed it was caught in the vice-like grip of another, both sets of knuckles white with strain and effort, cramped together like a closed clam. The man sighed.

'My name is ...'

He grimaced, his throat dry and raw as if he'd been screaming. Maybe he had been. Wincing, he tried to extricate himself, twisting and stretching his fingers until the other hand gripping his gave way. He shook his offending limb out in an attempt to release the cramping.

Glancing to his left he saw his companion suddenly spasm and vomit a gout of seawater on to the beach before slowly and clumsily sitting up, muttering in a guttural, hoarse voice.

'Dievui nusispjauti tai ... fuck ...'

They glanced at each other, both of them bruised, battered and sodden with seawater. The first man spoke.

'Did ... did you just say *fuck*?'

His companion spat onto the sand, his mouth curling in distaste before he wiped it with the back of his hand. He canted his head, eyebrows raised.

'I think on this occasion the profanity is warranted, don't you?'

The first man fell back onto the sand, his laughter ringing out suddenly and frightening a few nearby seagulls. He laughed until his ribs hurt and he couldn't laugh any more. After a few hiccups and snorts he quieted and when he spoke again his voice was clear and strong.

'My name is Will Graham. I don't what time it is or where the fuck I am, but I'm lying on a beach, holding hands with Hannibal Lecter, wondering what fresh fucking hell this is. But that's not important right now. The important thing ...'

Will glanced at Hannibal who was watching him and grinning like an idiot.

'... the important thing is ...

We're alive.'

 

FIN


End file.
